A Breath of Fresh Air
by Dionysiac
Summary: A bored Crowley calls into the bookshop. However, instead of Aziraphale, he finds a note addressed to himself.
1. In Which Crowley Gets Ready

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was, never will be. Please don't sue, I have no money.

I've dabbled in fanfic before, but this is my first foray into GO. Not too sure where this is going, but so far I rather like it – not bad for what is essentially me letting my fingers wander the keyboard!

**Chapter One**

In which Crowley gets Ready

It was a bright light, actually, no; make that an incredibly bright light. In fact, no, it was an excruciatingly luminescent light which burned through his eyelids, boring straight into his brain. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. It had rather inconsiderately woken him from a particularly enjoyable sleep much to his chagrin. Not that he really needed to sleep you understand; oh no, as a demon he didn't need any of the things mortals seemed incapable of living without, such as drinking, eating or breathing. However, Crowley found that he rather enjoyed quite a few of these things, and sleep was one he was particularly fond of. Unfortunately, it had become painfully apparent that he was going to have to abandon the comfort of his bed. He consoled himself with the knowledge that, in doing so, he was that little bit closer to lunch at the Ritz.

Crowley liked the Ritz. In fact, "liked" would possibly be more than a little bit of an understatement. He enjoyed the luxurious surroundings, the delectable food and the impeccable service, but most of all, Crowley enjoyed the company. Not that he would ever admit to that mind you; especially not to the individual himself and certainly not to anyone Down There. The very thought made Crowley's stomach do odd flip-floppy things. No, he kept that information under wraps – super industrial strength wraps with chains and very large padlocks.

A wave of a hand and the bed was made; in fact, it didn't look like anybody had slept in it – ever. In a flash the black satin monogrammed pyjamas were replaced by a flash designer suit. Yellow eyes with suspiciously shaped pupils were covered by a pair of stylish shades. Crowley studied himself in the mirror; a pleasant sight he decided, feeling quite pleased with his current mortal form. He quickly smoothed down his hair before leaving the bedroom.

He sauntered into the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee was waiting for him. It always was, despite the fact that there was nobody there to make it. Pouring himself a mug, Crowley picked up a copy of the Times newspaper from the counter. It hadn't been there a minute ago, but it was now. He scanned the headlines, nothing of note really: some corrupt politicians, a minister running off with his mistress, all run of the mill stuff easily recognisable as the handiwork of Hastur and Ligur. Crowley sighed, throwing the paper to one side and removing himself and his coffee to the living room where he settled upon his stylish leather couch. He supposed he ought to get in some demonic activity today. Maybe he could invent some more of those ringtones for mobile phones that upset people so much. He quickly dismissed that idea as he honestly didn't think it was possible to top that frog. It had been a true work of genius that one. Oh sod it, he may as well go and bother the angel before lunchtime. Crowley felt that irritating a member of the heavenly host should count as work, even if he did take that member out to lunch afterwards. After all, he never paid for it did he?


	2. Heavenly Words

Disclaimer: Still not mine, definitely not – I've checked.

Heavenly Words

Crowley occasionally found himself despising driving in London. Mortals could be terribly incompetent at times he thought, as a wave of his hand ensured him a clear pathway through the traffic. Honestly, they had no consideration for others; a thought which cheered the demon up immensely as the Bentley screeched to a halt outside Aziraphale's book shop. A smile settled itself on Crowley's face as he extracted himself from the car with an almost inhuman gracefulness. He liked the shop, though naturally this was another of those titbits of information which he chose to keep to himself. It had a certain cosiness, which Crowley would never allow himself to be found inhabiting, but it worked for the angel and it did make a nice change sometimes.

Upon trying the handle, Crowley found the door to be locked. This was not an uncommon state in which to find the book shop, as Aziraphale was incredibly keen to avoid selling any of his precious books. Besides, a mere lock was not going to stop this demon and the door swung forth unresisting before him. Smirking, Crowley stepped inside. Considerately, he thought to announce his arrival.

"Angel, I thought you might want to take me out to lunch so I am hereby placing myself at your disposal."

Silence.

"Angel? Aziraphale? Are you here? Lost in book I'll bet. Honestly, I don't know what you see in those things - no pictures, just a lot of boring words."

Crowley strolled through to the back of the shop, firmly expecting to find Aziraphale with his nose in a book. However, the room was empty, the angel nowhere to be seen. This was a most unexpected development and Crowley hated when his plans didn't work out as they were supposed to. He marched back through into the shop, now thoroughly disgruntled but at the same time thinking about plan B.

Plan B involved going to a nice wine bar and drinking as much fine wine as possible. However, Crowley was not entirely sure how he could pass that one off as work. He would have continued to ponder that one as he got steadily more inebriated he decided. It was at that moment that something white on the shop's counter caught the demon's eye.

Upon closer inspection it transpired that it was a letter.

A letter addressed to him.

It was from Aziraphale; the florid handwriting on the envelope was a dead giveaway and really, who else would be leaving him a letter in that particular location? He tore it open and began to read:

_Crowley my dear,_

_In the very likely event that you should find this note, I want you to know that everything is fine. I am terrible sorry that I am not available for lunch (at least I presume that is why you called in) but you see I have decided to take myself off on a little holiday. The reason I did not mention it sooner is that, well it really isn't your thing is it? I didn't want you to talk me out of it, as I really did want to get out of London for a bit, but I know you are much happier in the city. I will be gone for a couple of weeks – do try not to cause too much mayhem in my absence won't you?_

_See you soon,_

_Aziraphale_

_P.S. On the off-chance that you want to join me, I enclose the address of the cottage I am staying in. Feel free to come along._

So the angel had made plans without telling him? Crowley scowled as he pulled a second bit of paper from the envelope. Of course he wasn't thinking about joining Aziraphale, he was merely curious as to where it was the angel thought would be so offensive to him. A quick glance at the details revealed all. It seemed Aziraphale was in Wales.

Now, Crowley had nothing against the Welsh, nothing whatsoever, but he knew for a fact that this particular village was located on the coast and if there was one thing Crowley hated, it was the beach. No wonder the angel hadn't mentioned it earlier; for it was a subject on which the demon had been incredibly vocal in the past. Not that he had ever explained why, oh no. The very thought of it made Crowley shudder and not very many things made him do that. Therefore, it was with an incredible reluctance that he pocketed the details and left the book shop.

He supposed it might be possible to get a decent lunch somewhere on the Welsh coast.


	3. Blue and Green

Disclaimer – Nope, after a lengthy appeal process, still not mine.

Blue and Green

Crowley navigated his way out of London with a scowl on his face, but at least he was getting some work done. This kind of mood often inspired him to create the most wonderful chaos and so he decided to make the most it. Thus it was that hundreds of commuters found themselves stuck on the tube in the sweltering summer heat due to a power failure. The London Underground was of course invented by Downstairs, for however convenient you might imagine it to be in theory, in reality it is all too often a complete nightmare. By the time Crowley had reached the very outskirts of the capital the scowl had faded a bit, leaving him looking more pensive than angry.

He really didn't want to go to Wales, not at all. He kept trying to justify his reluctance with a variety of excuses - it was far away; it was full of sheep; they all spoke some kind of bizarre language which seemed to involve trying to cover the other person with as much phlegm as possible – anything but having to explain his hatred of beaches. He didn't like telling that story at all and had successfully managed to avoid anyone ever finding out. The thought that he might end up having to tell the angel everything brought the scowl right back to his face where it settled itself for the long haul.

His temper wasn't helped by his surroundings, which were becoming increasingly green and leafy. Crowley didn't like the country much either, largely because he felt it didn't fit in with his image. He really did not find Barbour jackets and Wellington boots a great fashion statement and they appeared to be some sort of uniform amongst people in the countryside. Also, it smelled funny and there was a lot of mud around. No, the city was where Crowley was happy and it was where he would have stayed if he hadn't felt obliged to seek out Aziraphale. Loathe as he was to admit it, he did rather enjoy the angel's company, even if it did mean having to go to the beach.

It was a beautiful day and that annoyed Crowley too. He was glad of his sunglasses, which he never took off anyway, even when it was dark. He mentally cursed the brilliant blue, cloudless sky above him, then wondered why he felt he had to keep it to himself and cursed it verbally for a while. This kept him occupied for an hour or so, but eventually he tired of it and decided to search for a cassette. He pulled one entitled "Classic Beethoven" out and shoved it into the tape player. As he settled back into his seat, the familiar strains of Queen washed over him and it dawned on him that that particular cassette had probably been in the car for quite some time.

After a considerable amount of driving, Crowley eventually found himself driving past a cheerful-looking sign welcoming him to Wales. Another hour or so later and he caught his first glimpse of the sea, the sun glinting off its surface appearing to dance. Anyone else would have wondered at the beauty of it all. Crowley was not anyone else. The scowl intensified as he began to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable conversation that lay ahead.


	4. Ocean Breeze

Disclaimer - I know it's been a while, but nope, everything still belongs to Messers Gaiman and Pratchett.

It was busy down on the promenade. Families bustled by, trying to make it down onto the beach with minimum fuss; young people ambled along, laughing and joking and pensioners shuffled along entirely at their own pace, glancing around as they attempted to locate the next suitable resting spot. The blonde-haired gentleman wandering amongst the crowds was wholly inconspicuous. Well, almost, as a few enquiring minds pondered where exactly someone would buy tweed shorts in this day and age and also why on earth they would want to. Then there was the obscenely large straw sunhat, perched precariously atop the stranger's head. Oh, and the tartan beach bag that looked as if it really could hold everything and the kitchen sink to boot. Come to think of it, this individual had an altogether _original_ appearance.

Of course, this was merely a passing thought before attentions were soon diverted elsewhere and thus Aziraphale remained oblivious to the fact that his outfit was at least a couple of centuries out of date and of a style that had never in a million years been referred to as stylish. Nothing terribly new there then; though it did make it much easier for Crowley to spot his acquaintance in amongst the throng. Rolling his eyes he slipped between people with an almost inhuman grace and swiftness until he found himself at the angel's right shoulder. Aziraphale was completely oblivious, for he was currently perusing one of the tacky seaside stalls with unsettling interest.

"So this is where you've run off to," Crowley delighted in the jump and the startled squeak which came from the Angel who also dropped the cheerful little snow globe he had been examining. He managed to recover quickly enough from his shock in order to ensure that the ornament bounced and returned it to its shelf unharmed. It had almost been worth the journey for that piece of mischief alone, though Crowley maintained a straight face as he met Aziraphale's somewhat irate expression.

"Oh come on, it's all part of the job description. You're the enemy – I was launching a surprise attack! You have to admit, your attempt at camouflage hasn't been terribly successful." Crowley made a vague gesture indicating the angel's apparel. "You might want to try harder next time."

"I wasn't _trying_ to hide, Crowley" Aziraphale replied haughtily. "Anyway, what brings you here? I seem to recall that last time I mentioned a seaside visit you were more than a little opposed to it." This was a tactful way of saying that the demon had caused the brochures to spontaneously combust, before storming out, slamming the door so hard that one of the rickety old bookcases had collapsed in a shower of dust. It wasn't that Aziraphale held a grudge, oh no, that certainly wasn't the done thing. All he was trying to do was to ascertain what had changed between that day and this; and if that happened to require having a sly dig, well, what could he do?

"Actually I rather fancied creating some chaos somewhere else, and a new environment offers so many interesting possibilities." Crowley's voice was nonchalant but he was determinedly avoiding Aziraphale's gaze. "Anyway, now that I'm here, I feel we should find a suitable location for lunch, although I suspect that may be asking rather too much of this place."

"_Au contraire_ my dear. I found the loveliest little bistro not terribly far from here. Exquisite food, fine wines and the most _divine_ seaside views. Come on, I trust you've left the Bentley in a suitably nearby location."

He turned and began to walk away, pretending to be entirely oblivious to the glower which had descended upon Crowley's face. If he wanted to get to the bottom of things, this was the best way to go about it and, if there was one thing Aziraphale knew, it was Crowley.


	5. Conversation

Disclaimer – Not mine, never will be.

Aziraphale maintained his cheerful demeanour throughout the short car journey, which was no mean feat considering Crowley's mood. Still, the angel refrained from acknowledging this, limiting his conversation to extolling the virtues of the seaside. It was very much a one-sided conversation but Aziraphale wasn't about to let that stop him. By the time the Bentley screeched to a halt in front of the little restaurant (amazing really, how the perfect parking space often simply appears as if from nowhere) the glower appeared to have got itself a mortgage and taken up permanent residence on the demon's face. Exiting the car, Aziraphale inhaled deeply.

"Ah, the sea air. Can you think of anything more wonderful?" Crowley, on the opposite side of the vehicle, narrowed his eyes as he looked at his companion from behind his trademark sunglasses.

"Well, the sulphur pits down in Hell for starters," he glanced up at the name above the entrance as he spoke. The angel followed his gaze, smiling as he did so.

"I thought the name was terribly appropriate, don't you agree?" A small smile fought its way onto Crowley's face. The sign was written in the elaborate script often associated with eateries of a certain level of pretentiousness. Amidst the curls and flourishes it was just possible to discern the lone word. _Eden_.

"Very appropriate," he murmured as the pair stepped inside.

Much to Crowley's chagrin, the interior of the restaurant considerably more...nautical than the exterior. It occurred to him that he really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, these places had to cater to the tourists but still, it was a little on the nose. The colour scheme was red, white and blue and the walls were adorned with what appeared to be a number of bits of boat. It was all so cliché, so Aziraphale.

It was also filled to the brim with people.

The angel sighed, giving Crowley a pointed look which was all too familiar. Two minutes later they were seated opposite each other, both studying leather-backed menus.

"You really could have done that yourself you know." Crowley studied his dining companion over the top of his menu.

"Forgive me my dear but I haven't got the foggiest idea what you are referring to." It was almost convincing but a telltale flushing in the angelic cheeks gave the game away.

"Of course not." The grin had returned, claiming triumph over the glower of earlier. The sight came as a relief to Aziraphale – dinner with a sullen demon was not his idea of a pleasant afternoon. Now he just had to figure out how to swing the conversation around to Crowley's loathing of beaches. Despite the apparent return to form, the yellow eyes kept shooting glances out of the window, and conversation was somewhat stilted as the demon appeared to be lost in thought. Still, Aziraphale pressed on.

"Marvellous view isn't it?"

"Mmmm."

"I mean, just look at that sea, how brilliant that shade of blue is."

"Mmmm."

"Oh and isn't that impressive – some dolphins appear to be performing a synchronised routine of some sort."

"Mmmm."

"Crowley, are you listening to anything I'm saying?" The angel's tone was exasperated.

"Mmmm...huh? Sorry, I'm listening." Jolted from his reverie, Crowley's words were rushed.

"Look, what is it that's got you so distracted? Just what is this big mystery about you and beaches?"

It was at this point that the waiter appeared with their food. The timing was conspicuous and Aziraphale couldn't help noticing the relieved look on Crowley's face.

However difficult the demon might find it to admit, the angel had been right about the restaurant. The food was exquisite and they had a nice line in fine wines. Crowley felt himself relaxing and the conversation began to flow much as it did back in London. Still, his mind kept pulling him back, kept pushing him to revisit that time, that place. Even when he wasn't looking at it, he could still hear the sea; the waves crashing onto the shore, and he could smell it too, that unmistakeable salty tang. He shook his head, forcing his attention back to the angel sitting opposite him.

"...Well I tried to explain that it was nothing more than fiction. Interesting theories, I'll grant you that but _really_, Christ and Mary Magdalene? Still, he was having none of it. He kept asking how I could possibly be so sure, and how was I supposed to answer that? I very much doubt he would have believed me if I'd told him the truth."

"That you were actually there? No, I don't think he would have. Maybe if you'd told him you were an inter-galactic traveller with the ability to move backwards and forwards through time?"

"Now I do believe he would have accepted that one. Almost a shame such behaviour is considered unbecoming for an angel." Aziraphale chuckled as he took another sip from his wine glass however, as he set it back down his expression became more serious. Crowley knew what was coming and yet couldn't see a way to keep it from happening. The angel was clearly not going to let this drop.

"Crowley..."

"Don't. Please don't. I've said it repeatedly. The subject is off-limits."

"Well I don't understand. What could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me of all people?"

"It's complicated and as I keep saying, I don't want to discuss it. Now are you going to leave the subject alone or are we about to fall out over it?" Crowley could feel his temper rising.

"Honestly my dear, you really are being quite defensive, I am merely showing some concern." Aziraphale now sounded disgruntled; the demon was really trying his patience.

"No, what you are doing would be defined as interfering, and I could do without it right now." People in the restaurant were now casting glances at the pair, whose voices were beginning to rise with each exchange. They were glaring at each other across the table, blue eyes locked on yellow.

"I really don't know why I bother sometimes. If it's that much of an issue, go back to London and we shall never speak of it again."

"Fine. I have no idea why I'm here now anyway!" Crowley shoved his chair back, creating an ugly screeching sound. He then rose and stormed out, muttering something unintelligible as he passed. Aziraphale grabbed his wine glass and slumped back in his seat, ignoring the curious glances he was attracting. Scowling, he glowered out of the window, watching the sunlight dancing on the waves and reflected on what had just happened.

This was uncharacteristic behaviour for Crowley, who was normally so laid-back he was practically horizontal. It had to be serious for it to agitate him in this fashion but Aziraphale couldn't for the life of him figure out what kind of situation would cause the demon this much grief. They had both had their share of horrible experiences during their lengthy existence but nothing had provoked this kind of reaction. As his thoughts continued to run along these lines, Aziraphale felt his recent anger ebb away as it was replaced by concern. He sighed and drained his glass of the remaining liquid, rising to his feet as he did so.

He needed to find Crowley.


	6. Revelation

Disclaimer – while it has been some time since I last updated, I still don't own any of the characters contained herein. I'm sure that if I did, I wouldn't be working in the chaos that is the banking industry!

Sighing, Aziraphale rose from the table at which he had remained seated for a full ten minutes in a state of confused irritation. That had been an incredibly un-Crowley-like display of emotion and it had caught the angel thoroughly off-guard. Deep in thought, he wandered to the restaurant door, shielding his eyes from the alarmingly bright sunlight. His puzzlement overtook his anger when he spotted the Bentley sitting exactly where it had been parked earlier. Crowley didn't do walking – he said it didn't fit with the kind of mortal he imagined he ought to be. Aziraphale frowned as concern crept in alongside his confusion. There was only one thing for it – he was going to have to go looking for the demon.

So it was that Aziraphale spent the remainder of the afternoon hunting for Crowley, who was not as easy to locate as the angel had initially anticipated. He had tried the most obvious locations: the arcades, the stalls, the bars – all places someone like Crowley could cause mischief – but he could find nothing, not the tiniest example of demonic malevolence. It would have been soothing were it not for Aziraphale's present worries. He began to wonder whether he ought to give up on looking in the obvious places. It was a moment of sheer exasperation as opposed to divine inspiration which drove the angel to the unlikeliest location of them all.

It was a bit of a hike to the top of the cliff and as such, Aziraphale arrived at his destination with significantly less composure than he would have liked. Nevertheless, it looked as though it had all been worth it, for here, silhouetted against the fiery sunset, was an instantly recognisable shape. The angel elected to pause for a moment to catch his breath. He was perfectly aware that this was not necessary – after all, he didn't actually need oxygen in order to live but he wanted to take a couple of seconds to get his thoughts (and appearance) in order.

"Took you long enough."

Evidently the silhouette wasn't going to spare him those couple of seconds.

"Well forgive me but after all that fuss, the last place I expected to find you was the one with the best view of the beach."

Now that he had satisfied himself that the demon had come to no harm, Aziraphale could feel his earlier irritation returning. After all, even angels have their limits, and physical exertion was his. Crowley merely grunted in reply.

Sighing, Aziraphale approached his friend, who had seated himself on a bench. He stopped short of sitting by him, electing instead to stand behind, looking out across the sea at the blood-red sunset, hands resting on the back of the bench on either side of Crowley.

"So." The angel found that he didn't really know what to say.

"So?" Crowley evidently wasn't going to help here. Aziraphale knew that there was only one direction this conversation could take and he was going to nudge it that way.

"I think you owe me an explanation."

"Do I?" Crowley's tone was dull.

"You don't think so? After that little strop, and of course all your behaviour up until that point, I think I'm entitled..."

"It was a long time ago." Crowley interrupted. "I mean, centuries ago, back in Rome. You remember that little squabble between Julius and Gnaeus?"

"My dear, you are talking about Gaius Julius Ceasar and Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus and that 'little squabble' was the great Civil War – the one that brought about the fall of the Roman Republic!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course, well all these things run into each other over the centuries, don't they? Anyway, back then I spent a lot of time in the company of Caesar, was one of his most trusted confidantes really. I was the one who convinced him that crossing the Rubicon was in everybody's best interests. I socialised with some of the greatest men of that age, earned a certain reputation myself."

"I can quite believe that you did but I don't see what that has to do with anything." Aziraphale frowned at the top of Crowley's head, as if the answers would somehow present themselves provided he stared hard enough.

"Patience angel – this is just a bit of scene-setting, dramatic tension and all that." The words were playful but they were uttered with all the cheer of a funeral oration. He sighed and continued.

"I was at a banquet one night when I was introduced to the eldest son of a prominent Senator. He was quite possibly the most devastatingly handsome specimen of human life I have ever encountered. Intelligent and witty to boot. We hit it off immediately and went on to spend most of our time in each other's company. Well, you know, one thing led to another and... well let's just say our relationship developed into something more than friendship.

"Oh." Aziraphale tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice but rather feared he failed.

"Come on angel, you can hardly claim to be surprised. I'm a demon – carnal pleasure is one of our things."

"Well yes, of course. I really should have seen it coming but if you'll forgive me my dear, your voice is conveying far more than lust right now."

"Well, maybe it was more than, what would I know – lust might be my territory but I'd say love is your area of expertise. Either way, we had a relationship of sorts. We would meet every evening we could, always in the same place."

"The beach?" Aziraphale ventured hesitantly.

"Got it in one angel. This was no ordinary beach though, it was unimaginably beautiful, a truly special place. It was our place. Until it wasn't."

"What happened?"

"He switched sides." Crowley's voice was barely a whisper now. "He met me in our special place and told me he was going to betray us all." Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond but the words died in his throat. He tried again.

"Crowley, I..."

"Oh, it gets better. You see, this wasn't really a face-to-face confession, rather his final words to me as he plunged his dagger into my back."

This time, Aziraphale didn't bother trying to find the right words, they didn't exist. Instead, he moved his hands onto Crowley's shoulders and squeezed them. Crowley reached up and placed one of his hands on top of the angel's as they continued silently watching the last rays of sunlight as they slowly faded. They remained that way until the first stars began to appear. It was at this point that Aziraphale's legs decided that they'd had enough of all this exercise lark and the angel moved around the bench, sitting himself down next to the demon. At length, Crowley spoke again.

"I know that death isn't a big deal for us but he didn't know that. As far as he was concerned he was finishing me off. It was the ultimate betrayal. "

"What happened to him?" Aziraphale found that curiosity won out over tact.

"I do believe he died in battle not to long afterwards. Small consolation but it's something I suppose. Anyway, that was the last time I allowed myself to get so close to a mortal. They can be worse than all the lords of Hell when they put their minds to it. No, it's just you and me angel, the perfect Arrangement."

Aziraphale cast a sidelong glance at Crowley who was staring intently out into the dusk. Suddenly, the demon snapped his head round and, removing his sunglasses, he fixed the angel with the kind of intense stare that had struck fear into countless house plants.

"You would never betray me, would you angel?"

"I...I...what?" The question had taken Aziraphale by surprise.

"I can trust you, can't I?" Crowley's tone was alarmingly panicky. The angel did his best to adopt as reassuring a demeanour as possible.

"Of course you can Crowley, you know you can."

Seemingly reassured, the demon nodded perfunctly, replaced his sunglasses and turned once more to face the sea. A smile crept over his face as he slipped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders.

"You know angel, I think I could come to like this seaside lark."

Aziraphale merely smiled.

Fin


End file.
